Toys, Cartoons, Baseball, and Whiskey

Sometimes You Dream Big

I was watching Yordano Ventura pitch in Game 2 of the ALCS yesterday. That’s a cruddy opening isn’t it? I was eating chips yesterday. Well, so what? While watching Ventura throw 98-mph fastballs to the likes of Josh Donaldson and Jose Bautista, I began to wonder two things: what would happen if there was a mashup between Marvel’s Dazzler and GI Joe’s Recondo, and what would I do if I threw a 98-mph fastball? The first question was easy enough to answer with a little help from Photoshop, but the second took some thought. I had the afternoon free to think about such things, however, so I thought I’d share what I’d do if I threw really, really, ridiculously hard.

Reach all the juiciest, tastiest apples at the top of apple trees. There’s one that can be said to be called the unattainable fruit. Well, it’s attainable for me. Maybe you can eat those apples that have been picked over and palmed by germy-handed toddlers. Not this guy. I’m going for the place where worms can’t reach. Look it up. There’s probably some kind of fact somewhere that says worms can’t breathe that high off the ground. Or they get tired climbing. Or the birds that perch that high pick them off.

Turn off the lights. We have push button lights in our house. They’re pretty sweet. I don’t have to go through all the trouble of twisting my wrist like you suckers, risking carpal tunnel. My curveball also suffers because I don’t build up those muscles, but I consider the tradeoff worth it in the long run. Still. I’m pretty lazy. I have to stand up, walk over to the switch, and push a button. There’s a satisfying click. What if I miss? I could sprain a finger. A 98-mph fastball would solve a few problems immediately.

Would not become a Real American Hero. You can’t convince me Hardball was a legitimate GI Joe character.

Feel better about all those made up characters in a lifetime of video games that had my name and finished the season 32-0. With a 98-mph fastball? I don’t feel so bad now. Maybe I convince myself I really did those things.

Reverse the Earth’s rotation to travel back in time. I could do this. I’d throw so hard I could grow younger instead of older like mere mortals. I’d make a few timely bets. Maybe I’d even edit a few of these posts.

Dominate snowball battles.

Win everything at carnivals. From cement weighted milk jugs to guess your speed, I’d be a force. How many balloons can a man pop with a 98-mph fastball? Forget those dull darts. My heater melts balloons and wins the hearts of kewpie dolls everywhere. The mouse may find the blue diamond, but this cat is hunting for Motley Crew t-shirts.

Dare police to ticket me.

Grab the most top shelfiest of all items at every store. Ladder? Go get the stock clerk if you want. This guy brought his own extendable arm. You know they only put the best stuff up there, far out of the roving eyes of average people, right?

Rule duckpin bowling.

Clean my gutters.

Create my own hot sauce brand.

Become an ambassador. A guy with a 98-mph heater makes world leaders listen. That’s a guy with power.